


Labels

by annanndstann



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Avengers Family, Avengers Tower, Clint Barton Feels, Clint knows what's up, Getting Together, Humor, Idiots in Love, M/M, POV Clint Barton, Possessive Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2015-05-14
Packaged: 2018-03-30 13:17:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3938224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annanndstann/pseuds/annanndstann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint moves into the tower and notices that Tony really likes labels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Labels

**Author's Note:**

> I just had a lot of emotions and decided to write something cutesy. Constructive criticism most welcome. Enjoy.

Tony Stark loves labels: that was the first thing Clint learned when he had first moved into Avengers Tower. 

The second thing Clint learned was that, despite his affinity for labels, Tony Stark hates organizing.

It hadn’t been hard to figure out. On his first day at the tower, Clint was busy exploring the ventilation system when he found himself looking down at Tony’s workshop. Almost the entire floor was a mess of wires, circuitry, tools, and metal. Clint couldn’t help but notice that each and every piece of hardware seemed to have a white space for a logo. Odd, as very little of the junk below seemed related to Stark Industries.

Peering closer, Clint realised his mistake. The patches weren’t blank, and as Clint squinted he could barely make out the words “Do not touch.” Tony, Clint decided, was a crazy son-of-a-bitch with control issues; not that Clint didn’t already know this.

Just then his stomach rumbled so Clint decided to crawl his way back to the communal floor. Intent on raiding the fridge, the journey progressed much faster but felt much slower as he backtracked through the vents at top crawling speed.

Clint dropped down into the empty kitchen/living area and took a couple seconds to admire the open floor plan. He liked being able to see straight through into the other “rooms,” there was no tingling need to check around corners when the corners in question didn’t exist. However, Clint still walked a little swiftly to the refrigerator, it would take him a while to adjust to the still unfamiliar space.

All of Clint’s meandering thoughts about space and familiarity stopped when he opened the fridge. This was obviously another of Tony’s messes. All manner of greasy take out boxes were crammed onto the fridge’s too full shelves alongside half drunk protein shakes, unopened beers, and gourmet catering platters. Some of the food towards the very back appeared to be in the very early stages of rot and a small part of the back of Clint’s brain wondered whether or not he could eat any of it without getting sick.

The major part of Clint’s brain was occupied with the small white stickers adorning every item in the cluttered fridge. These labels were slightly different than the ones in the lab, simply proclaiming: “MINE.” Clint looked despairingly at the fridge as his stomach rumbled again. 

There was one tupperware container nestled amongst the clutter. It looked like curry: Bruce’s work then. There was no label and it was a communal fridge. Carefully Clint extricated the plastic treasure chest, barely managing not to trigger a food avalanche in his wake. Clint then decided that he would very much like to be the rebellious teen of the Avenger superfamily and grabbed one of Tony’s beers and a spoon. He perched himself crosslegged on the granite island and just began shoveling food in his face.

Over the following weeks Clint became used to the little white labels, particularly to ignoring them. His new favorite pastime became watching Steve and Tony, clearly the mom and dad of the Avenger family, dance around each other. The sheer levels of stupidity each had towards the other nearly had Clint falling, laughing, from his perch in the exposed rafters on multiple occasions. He was lucky the two were so engrossed in each other. Otherwise, he had no doubt, he would have been caught by Steve’s enhanced hearing as he snorted and chuckled away above their heads.

Clint had become so used to the labels that he almost missed it when one morning, about four months after he had first moved into the tower, Steve came down unusually late for his breakfast. This in and of itself was no cause for suspicion, perhaps Captain Athletic’s morning run had been a little farther than usual. Steve grinned at him, chipper morning person that he was, and Clint grimaced back. Clint blames the fact that he had only finished half his mug of coffee for the fact that he almost, but didn’t, miss the flash of white as Steve turned towards the coffee machine with his own mug in hand.

Two labels glared at Clint from the back of Steve’s left shoulder “Do not touch.” read one, and “MINE.” read the other.

When Steve turned back he found Clint with an exasperated, but genuine, grin stretching from ear to ear. Steve raised an eyebrow in question as he took the first sip from his coffee.

“Congratulations on getting your shit together and finally fucking Stark.” Clint said, still grinning. The grinning quickly turned into full body laughter as Steve did an honest to god spit-take and flushed redder than the stripes on his precious American flag.

“Language.” 

With his mumbled remark Steve quickly retreated, hopefully back to Tony’s bed, mortification and elation both evident on his face.

“About fucking time,” Clint murmured into his coffee. The sun seemed a little brighter, as if it sensed his elevated mood. As he sipped at his coffee, Clint stared around the now familiar layout of the tower. Of their tower. Of their home.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on tumblr!
> 
> http://annanndstann.tumblr.com


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